Sever
by LovelyFarron
Summary: Physical strength would come and go, but strength of the heart, the strength to forgive, to let go, to love, was something he could never possess, not with the way he was. She was the light to his dark, a flame that he flittered around but could never get close to.


Anime/Manga: Naruto

Pairing: Sasuke/Sakura

Genre: Angst/Romance

Rating: T

A/N: Post Part I and pre Shippuden. A gift for my good friend, Jen aka shannaros! I've never written SasuSaku before, only KakaRin, so I hope this comes out ok! I wanted to try something a little different than what I've seen before, with Sasuke thinking of and longing for Sakura after he left rather than the other way around.

Sever

He wondered if years down the road he'd be looking into that emerald green, the silent question, _"Why didn't you take me with you?"_ screaming at him accusingly through her eyes. He wondered if years down the road he'd have to deal with her disappointed tears, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed, heart burdened with the heavy grief born out of her love for him. He wondered if years down the road she'd still be there, right where he had left her, waiting for him. But most of all, he wondered if there would be anything left for him to go back to, wondered if he had broken her beyond repair and that the light that was Sakura Haruno was no more.

Sasuke Uchiha gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, his heart twisting painfully inside his chest, robbing him of breath. He wanted to rip the damn thing out and probably would have long ago had it not been for the fact that he needed it to live. It was more troublesome than it was worth, and he hated it for making him feel the way he did, for making him care about things he had purposefully cut himself off from. It was truly sadistic and beyond his control, dredging up and reminding him of old bonds despite his best efforts, and would doubtless be his downfall.

The very idea of Sakura being broken, of having lost her smile, of having had her life extinguished, made him want to scream in anguish and break something, though he wouldn't because he was Sasuke and Sasuke did not do such things, even if he wanted to. He was no longer there with her to protect her, no longer there to catch her when she fell. He was no longer there to remind her that she was a ninja and that she was smart and strong and so much more than she gave herself credit for.

She had done so much for him, had such strength of character, that there were times when he had felt inadequate in comparison to her. What she lacked in physical ability she more than made up for with the strength of her heart. He had always envied her in that regard and it was perhaps why now, after all the time that had passed, he still couldn't let her memory rest. Physical strength would come and go, but strength of the heart, the strength to forgive, to let go, to love, was something he could never possess, not with the way he was. She was the light to his dark, a flame that he flittered around but could never get close to.

He couldn't help but smirk, amused by the passion that still managed to break forth when she crossed his mind. If anyone had been able to hear his thoughts, they would have thought him mad. Wasn't he supposed to be the avatar of vengeance? Wasn't he supposed to be filled with grief and rage and hate? Why did he care what happened to one girl? She was no longer with him, no longer his teammate, no longer his concern. He had betrayed her, hurt her. He had no right to think of her, didn't have the time to, so…why did he?

_Sakura…_

The world was quiet around him, the inhabitants of Orochimaru's little community long ago having retired to bed. Many individuals would perhaps take relief in the stillness the night brought, but it was this calm he hated most, the calm brought on when his muscles were crying in agony, the calm that couldn't be destroyed because he was too weak to move or speak, the calm that encroached upon him when there was no one around to be background noise. Thankfully, these little sleepless bouts of his were few and far between, but every so often he would find himself lying on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling with thoughts of a time long gone by, of people far, far away.

He hated these kinds of thoughts, thoughts that always ended with him gazing at her back, her body bathed in moonlight, pink hair blowing in the wind and smelling of the blossoms she was named after. He hated these kinds of thoughts because they did him no good, did nothing but cast doubt on his future and make him question if he had made the right decision.

There was a small part of him, a part that he was desperately trying to smother, that longed to be back in his birth village. There was a small part of him that wanted to be back under that night sky enjoying the fireworks with his friends. There was a small part of him that wanted to admit to her all the things she made him feel, that wanted to tell her how much of a difference she had made in his lonely life.

It may have never appeared like he cared about her, but he had. In his own way, he had been there for her, encouraging her, supporting her. He wasn't good with words and was even worse when it came to actions, but he had cared for her. Still did.

He wondered when—if—he saw her again he'd be able to tell her why he had left her behind. He wondered if he'd be able to tell her that he'd had to, that he hadn't had a choice in the matter. Even if he'd wanted to take her with him—and he'd briefly considered it—he wouldn't have. He _couldn't_ have. If she had come with him, he would never have been able to concentrate fully on his revenge because she would have been there at his side, because she was a representation of all that was good in his life.

She couldn't have come with him because she was his second chance, the means to his redemption. She had stuck by his side after seeing the devil that he was, hadn't been scared off and had genuinely cared about him as a person. She didn't care about his looks anymore, didn't care that he was the "cool bad boy" that every girl wanted. She cared about him, the _real_ him.

She hadn't understood why he did the things he did, but it hadn't mattered to her in the slightest. All she had known was that he was hurt and angry and alone, and she'd wanted to take his pain away, share his burden with him at the very least, so he didn't have to go back to being alone. And…she had cried for him.

Sasuke closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat as a dull ache welled up inside him. Sorrow was something he didn't want to feel, something that he couldn't afford to feel. It was almost as bad as the affection he'd begun to feel for her and he hated it.

He'd hated making her cry, hated only being able to say thank you. He'd wanted to say so much more, but hadn't been able to. He couldn't have lied to her then, couldn't have given her his heart when it was so damaged and torn. She deserved more, deserved better than what he was.

He could still hear her pleading with him, could still remember every meaningful conversation they'd ever had. He could still see her beaten and bruised on the forest floor, he hair freshly cut. He could still feel the sensation of her smooth skin sliding against his rough hands. He could still smell her scent, mixed with the variety of body washes and shampoos she used.

His mouth drawing in a thin line, he realized with regret that he'd never gotten to taste her and probably never would.

He'd had to get away from her, had to run away as far and as fast as he could. She had been changing him, filling his empty void, and it had terrified him. He had clung on to his hate for so long, had set his sights on bringing his brother down, that he didn't know what else there was in life, and to lose that, his goal for so many years…he hadn't known what to do besides run.

What was he supposed to do with Sakura? With the feelings she had been making him experience? Attachment? Concern? Worry? Love? What place did those have in his world? What good would they do him on the road to revenge?

_Nothing…these thoughts, these feelings…nothing._

He opened his eyes again, the sound of his breathing the only noise in the room.

These reflections would be gone soon he knew, chased away by the activity the day brought, but they still troubled him. Would these voices in his head ever quiet? Or would he forever be lost in this maze of misery, trapped first by his family's massacre and second by those haunting, green eyes?

He didn't know.


End file.
